


Rise of the Red Lotus

by nyegosh



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28250703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyegosh/pseuds/nyegosh
Summary: 8 years after Imbalance, strange events disturb the peace of the world... A new organization has appeared, and it's up to no good. How will our beloved characters, now in their mid 20s, deal with this issue?
Kudos: 3





	Rise of the Red Lotus

Inhale.

Focus.

Exhale.

Not through the mouth, but the Light Chakra.

 _Boom._ The crude statue is obliterated.

Exhale.

“Not bad, not bad - you have potential. Distance seems to be your biggest problem - your energy dissipates quickly - but it is no problem. You will overcome it in due time. Just don’t push yourself. A man with this skill wasn’t trained properly on time - and maimed himself. Now walks around with a metal leg and forearm. Sad.” Said a raspy, middle aged voice. The voice of a tough man who lived through and saw many things.

“Don’t worry, master. I’m always calm and aware!” Came out a confident, somewhat cheerful bubbly voiced reply.

* * *

_Dingdingdingdingding._

The medicine melts in the water, creating a rather noxious-smelling-and-looking concoction. A bad habit, and a reminder of a more darker time… For some, the saying “youth, craziness…” is a bit too literal, unfortunately.

Chug it and try to hold it down. The relief and numb feeling comes quickly, the reward center in the brain gets to work...

The world starts melting and distorting. Sit on the bed. It feels like sitting on a cloud… Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts… Nothing. Bad thoughts… also nothing. Good. Thinking hurts. Feeling hurts. Look into the stars. It’s a beautiful night. You would think it is beautiful if you weren’t a weak little rat who spends her days drugged out of your mind because you’re incapable of giving yourself a purpose. You husk. Junkie. Trash. Abomination. _Monster._

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts… 

**_Boom._ **

It’s just the little one training, nothing to worry about. Lie down, rest… Wretched lazy piece of _SHIT!_

“Oh spirits, this dosage is already so high it can knock out a fully grown komodo-rhino… Maybe even an actual rhino…” you mumble to yourself.

Your self-loathing thoughts need the Appa dose to be quelled, apparently. But any higher than this will be lethal. You already tried, and they had to bring Big Baldy’s shit-skinned girlfriend to fix you up.

Ugh. Why are you like this? She’s a nice lady and a good friend to talk to. When you’re not shit-faced… Which is nearly every day. Damn. You really need to get your shit together. Any more of this will kill you. You already look like death.

How does _she_ do it though? That entire “inability to express oneself due to parental abuse” is surely a cover story to hide the fact that she has no soul.

Damn it, not again. She’s a bit dry but is also a nice girl and a good friend.

Ugh, just sleep, and hope you don’t wake up tomorrow… Oh spirits please shut up please shut the fuck up.

Maybe a little walk will help settle the triple-damned mind.

* * *

_Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud..._

The sound of someone walking stealthily and with determination. With a certain intent, possibly malicious.

* * *

_Taptap-taptap-taptap-taptap..._

The footsteps of a young, happy, satisfied, confident and most importantly, exhausted girl.

* * *

_Clack-ding-clack. Khhh-ting. Ting-clack…_

Look at yourself. You can’t even walk. You shuffle and drag your feet like some kind of injured animal. You’re even below that. Look at that mirror. Look at your once-beautiful and intimidating, now awful and frightening face. A turd can roll downhill with more elegance.

Your face is wet. How long have you been crying? Your eyes indicate it’s been a good hour and a half. But you just indulged not 15 minutes ago… Have you lost your feeling for time, even? Are you even alive?

Wait.

What’s that?

Gears are turning in the head, ancient, primordial training bubbling back through the sludge of sedation.

You can recognize the footsteps of an assassin. Perhaps, because you were trained since early childhood to recognize them. Perhaps because you practiced since early childhood to be one, just in case.

Your inner predator awakens…

You lean and look from the corner down the hall. Indeed, a cloaked figure. It’s gait is full of determination, but also trepidation.

Good. The scent of fear drives your instincts crazy, like a polar bear dog when it smells blood. You no longer even feel the effects of the damnable drug.

* * *

Now who could that be…

Oh no! Impossible! They can’t have gotten past the guards! How?

The figure takes a turn in the hallways, but a familiar sight skulks out on the far end. You’re relieved. Always good to have backup.

Even if the backup… hasn’t been in the best shape for the last 5 years. Or as long as you can remember.

* * *

He’s sleeping like a baby. The servant did his part of the deal at least. A lethal poison would be too incriminating. But a powerful tranquilizer? Nobody would notice, unless someone were to try to awaken the target. Or his taster. Even then, he’s a hard working man. A bit of really deep sleep isn’t so strange for a person of that caliber. Maybe.

The only problem would be that little skank training at this ungodly hour… But she probably finished and is in her room, wherever that would be.

Hold up.

Why does something smell like burning hair?

Oh spirits oh f-

* * *

Left hand to his left wrist. Pull towards you. Right forearm upward to his elbow. Left arm down.

_Crunch._

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” The would-be assassin screams in agony as his elbow is completely destroyed and his left forearm hangs uselessly.

His hood has been burned but he was so focused on his job he didn’t even notice. Rookie. Now his stupid little ponytail was on fire, too.

“Good work, sis.” You slur. Did it even come out as something intelligible?

Oh. You’ve yanked him by the ponytail with a little crack, extinguishing the fire. Didn’t even notice. Perhaps you broke the little shit’s neck.

Nope. Still alive. He seems to have broken one of those suicide pills hidden in the teeth. You heard of this, but never thought you’d encounter it “in the wild”.

But the Fire Nation Royal Palace is anything but the wild.

Oh well, since he’s about to die anyway…

* * *

You failed. The two bitches found him out, somehow. The one holding you jerks you violently away from the slumbering Fire Lord, towards them.

You face 2 of the most powerful firebenders in the world.

To your left, Kiyi, the little bastard-sweetheart of the nation. 13 years old yet can bend both lightning and create explosions with her mind. When she grows up, she’ll perhaps be more powerful than her wretched and detestable half-sister, now to your and Kiyi’s right.

Azula. The little monster of a Princess the nation wants to forget about.

Kiyi’s eyes look upset, injured, even a bit scared. Offended, mostly. She’s a pretty girl, but her face is ruined by the simple yet elaborate glyph tattoo on her forehead - an ancient tradition that became law. Usually the motif was an eye, not here. It was just some elaborate lines. Very simple and minimal. Many don’t mind - and degenerates might even like it - but they’re wrong. Such people are scum and only born to destroy.

But Azula’s… The face of the 25 year old woman holding you captive is monstrous, abominable. She used to be a pretty young lady when you were a young boy. But anyone who looked at her closely saw the typhoon in her eyes, the insanity, self-hatred. The monster. She was your second target. You were far more eager to put her out of her misery.

Her eyes are hurt, full of pain, and rage. And despite the fact that her left eye is half closed, there is a predatory look in them that inspires fear. Her face is gaunt, cheeks hollow, contorted into an awful grimace. Something resembling a scowl, but far worse, far more unnatural...

“Hoo dou ya werk fer?!” She shouts. Perhaps it’s the poison starting to serve its purpose, but she’s very incoherent. Judging by the fact she seems to have difficulty even standing straight, she’s probably heavily sedated. Might be that she can’t even speak anymore.

As your life fades away, you muster the strength to make your final words. Words that will forever change the world.

**“DEATH TO TYRANNY! FREEDOM TO THE PEOPLE! DEATH TO BORDERS! DEATH TO ALL RULERS!**

**DEATH TO THE AVATAR!**

**LONG LIVE THE RED LOTUS!!!”**

In reality it’s more of a gurgle combined with screeching. But it seems they have gotten the message. Good.

You’re violently thrown to the floor by the mad Princess. Like how a petulant child throws a toy it doesn’t like on the ground.

The last thing you see are two pairs of eyes, one frightful, the other so frightening it is even more awful than the divine punishment you could already feel approaching.

* * *

“W-why didn’t Zuzu wake up? He is such a light sleeper…” Asks the young Kiyi.

“I know.” Azula forces through her numb jaw while checking Zuko’s pulse. “He’still alaayiv.” She adds “Perheps a sedateev.”

“Like the stuff you use that makes you talk funny like that?”

Azula’s eyes practically fly out of her head. “W-what? No! No such thing... Where did you get that idea? Where’s everyone anyway? I’ll stay guard in case there are any stra’gglers, you get mom and the guards. They should have heard the commotion by now anyway.” She barks the orders awkwardly.

The next morning, Fire Lord Zuko dispatches two messenger hawks. One to his aging uncle, the other to his friend, the Avatar.

A chain of events has been started that will change everything and affect the world years after they’re all gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I assume Azula kind of sort of reconciled with Zuko at some point. As you can see, she... didn't recover very well.


End file.
